


Hurry Down The Chimney Tonight

by folie_aplusieurs



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy
Genre: Boy Next Door Patrick, Christmas, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Gift Giving, M/M, No Angst, Secret Admirer meets Secret Santa, santa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-27
Updated: 2019-12-27
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:01:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21985567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/folie_aplusieurs/pseuds/folie_aplusieurs
Summary: Ten year old Pete Wentz has just learned that the neighbor's kid, Patrick Stump, won't be receiving any presents from Santa this Christmas. Obviously, he has to do something about it. This one kind action inspires an annual Christmas tradition...
Relationships: Patrick Stump/Pete Wentz
Comments: 13
Kudos: 57
Collections: Have Yourself Some Merry Little Peterick 2019





	Hurry Down The Chimney Tonight

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, it's me again.
> 
> Life has been going on and I feel bad for the inactivity I've suddenly sprung upon everyone. Tbh I lowkey gave up writing for a handful of reasons but then I saw the Christmas fics a few days ago (on Christmas morn actually lol) and what can I say? The magic of the season inspired me and the past 24 or so hours have been nothing but me and this little fic I wanted to gift the fic reader and writer community. Hope I'm still welcome here, I do love you all
> 
> I can't promise how often I'll be here after this but I'll do my best to stick around <3

_ As a ten year old, there’s nothing more terrifying to Pete than hearing his mom’s voice down the hall late at night, whispers carrying through the small home as he sneaks across the carpeted bedroom to press his ear to the door. It’s not a new thing, these late night conversations his parents share around cups of tea in the living room. Pete had first learned of these after a spelling test gone wrong in third grade, listening close to the way his parents worried over his academic progress an hour or so after sending him to bed. _

_ Tonight, though, it’s not his name he hears. It’s Patrick’s. _

_ Patrick. Patrick Stump, the next door kid with a front tooth missing and hair that frizzes at the slightest friendly ruffle. He’s younger than Pete, a few grades below, but they ride the bus to school each morning, side by side with small talk filling the fifteen minute ride to class. Patrick stays after for piano lessons with the music teacher; Pete knows because his mom told him that’s why he doesn’t see Patrick on the bus rides home anymore. _

_ Pete doesn’t know much more about Patrick other than his mom expects them to be best friends, like she is with Patrick’s mom. And, from the few times they’ve been at each other’s house, the only fun fact about Patrick is that he wears his dad’s glasses in order to watch cartoons. Pete had tried the same thing after coming home but the glasses kept slipping down his face and it made the TV blurry, anyway. _

_ As Pete presses closer to the door, he learns another fact about the Stump family, though this one’s far less fun than the other. _

_ “Patricia told me when she came over the other day, while the boys were at school,” his mom says, the sound of her nails tapping against her mug obscuring the words. “I offered to do something— you remember how nice she and Dave were when Pete was younger? Taking him back and forth from daycare while we were working? Yes, anyway, I offered but, well, she’s always seen herself as more of a fighter than that. Wouldn’t even let me finish the question.” _

_ “And I’m sure Dave wouldn’t want to seem needy, either.” Pete’s dad hums a soft sound between his sentences, thinking aloud. “I can give his name to my boss, though, see what that does. There’s no shame in needing work. It’s hard times.” _

_ “It’s more the gift situation that’s getting to me.” Pete’s mom’s voice drops enough for Pete to be pressing fully against the wood, his body cooling from the contact as he softens his breath enough to hear. “She said they’re foregoing the Santa present this year in order to continue paying for the music lessons at school.” _

_ It’s not quite a bolt of lightning that goes down Pete’s spine but it’s close enough. He jerks against the door, the knob hitting his ribs with a brief sting, but he barely notices the sound it makes.  _

_ Patrick’s parents aren’t getting him a Santa gift. Patrick’s parents aren’t getting him a  _ **_Santa_ ** _ gift. _

_ Pete loses the next exchange, his thoughts pacing like cars passing by. He’s known the truth about Santa for nearly a year now, an accidental realization about the Easter Bunny leading from one thing to the next. No, it’s not the knowledge of Santa that’s short-circuiting his brain. It’s the knowledge that Patrick’s not going to see a present from the big man under his tree. _

_ Maybe Patrick knows about Santa the way Pete does but, somehow, Pete’s not willing to place any bets on it. Patrick’s a kid who still talks about keeping his teeth beneath his pillow, the kind of kid who shouts about birthday wishes and 11:11 whenever he’s given the chance. He looks at life like there’s a sort of magic Pete doesn’t see. Even when he’s quiet, his words are about how good he believes the world is.  _

_ Patrick’s definitely someone who still believes in Santa Claus.  _

_ He’s also someone who tucks his shirt in at school even though the dress code was changed halfway through last year. He’s someone who colors quietly at the table when Pete’s visiting and the adults are talking. He’s someone who cleans his room and helps with the dishes and always puts his toys away. _

_ He’s someone who’s been good all year— someone who’s good on  _ **_purpose_ ** _. And, on the most important day of the year, that goodness is going unrewarded. _

_ What happens next isn’t exactly a plan nor is it an act of charity. As Pete digs his flashlight out from under his mattress and points it towards his own stack of toys, it’s more of something that just makes sense. _

_ ~ ~ ~ _

_ Pete’s shifting side to side as he and his parents wait outside the Stump family house later that week, his mom holding a tray of Christmas cookies half hidden beneath a bow and a card. His parents had hesitated to place the check inside the envelope— and had shared looks that meant Pete wasn’t supposed to see them doing it— but they had tucked it inside anyway. Pete just hopes their present won’t ruin his. _

_ Because his— a small toy rabbit with springs in the legs to make it jump— is signed specially from Santa himself. Or, well, it’s signed from Santa— in Pete’s best cursive handwriting. _

_ His mom had looked at it in the same way she’d looked at the check in the card, her face all funny and weird as he’d wrapped it up in her room, declaring that he can take Santa’s job for just one day. Maybe she knows that he knows about Santa. Or maybe she knows he knows about Patrick. Either way, she’d let him carry it over so now it sits safely under Pete’s puffy winter coat, the wrapping paper poking his skin as he waits restlessly for someone to open the door. _

_ Then, someone does. Someone small with the biggest smile Pete’s seen. Someone with a tacky Christmas sweater a size too big, waving at Pete and his parents as he lets them in. _

_ “Mom! Dad! The Wentzes are here!” He stumbles over the surname, his missing tooth more of an obstacle than Pete remembers it being for him. Patrick doesn’t seem to notice, running off to find his own parents.  _

_ Pete’s mom and dad follow after Patrick, laughing to each other when Patrick nearly falls over in his haste. As they turn a corner into the kitchen, Pete catches the sound of Patrick’s mom welcoming them in. _

_ Pete, however, doesn’t take a step closer. He turns his gaze, instead, to the side of the house where he knows the Christmas tree waits. _

_ Sneaking into the living room is as easy as it is for Pete to sneak anywhere— a talent that had led to the discovery that he’s getting that new Transformers toy for Christmas. On alert for any sounds, he heads towards twinkling lights and handmade ornaments and a pile of presents a bit smaller than they were last year. _

_ He kneels before the tree, tugging his own gift out with a heavy breath. He’d like to be able to give it to Patrick now, to see what he thinks, but he knows he can’t risk ruining Santa. So, the lopsided present finds its way to a corner by the wall, hidden by gift bags and branches. Hopefully, no one will see it until Christmas Day.  _

_ “Pete?” _

_ Pete turns, falling onto his butt as his stares wide-eyed at Patrick. His mouth moves but no sounds come out, trying to figure out how best to ask Patrick if he saw what Pete was doing. _

_ Patrick, though, pays Pete’s stammering no mind, blinking owlishly and lingering by the couch. _

_ “Your mom wants you to come say hi,” Patrick says, though with a lot more ums and uhs. “Sorry, did I scare you?” _

_ “Of course not,” Pete says, hurrying to his feet and straightening his shirt. “Why would you scare me? I see you, like, every week.” _

_ To his surprise, Patrick doesn’t take offense to the snappish tone. He laughs, smile wide enough to show off all the rest of his teeth. _

_ “More than that. I see you everyday, even if you don’t say hi,” Patrick says. Before Pete has a chance to answer, Patrick turns and waves for him to follow. “Come on. My mom’s got some apple cider. I think you’ll like it.” _

_ Pete spares one last glance at his hidden present and then follows, Patrick’s words replaying over in his mind as he does. _

_ ~ ~ ~ _

_ Pete doesn’t see Patrick for a few more days, though it’s not for lack of trying. The holidays, though, are busy. Between family visits and Christmas celebrations, Pete’s solo ventures outside the house have been few and far between. _

_ When he does see Patrick, it’s the day after Christmas. Pete’s lugging a sled behind him, the snow fresh from the night before. He’s not really supposed to go sledding until his dad’s ready to take him but, at the very least, he can wait outside. He sits in the driveway, piling snow atop his outstretched legs, and laughs. _

_ Only when his laughter has faded out does he hear an echo— Patrick’s giggles from the yard beside them. _

_ Patrick’s not laughing at or with him. In fact, he’s just shutting the front door, bundled up in a large orange coat and a beanie pulled down over his eyebrows. He laughs to himself, kicking at snow and brushing stacks of it off the porch rails. _

_ Under his arm, he’s carrying a small toy rabbit— a toy rabbit Pete hadn’t known he’d be so excited to see again. _

_ Pete doesn’t move towards Patrick, afraid of ruining the moment as Patrick plops onto his stomach in his yard, half-buried by the snow already. He holds the rabbit out in front of him, twisting the arms and pressing down on the legs to make it jump. And Pete just watches. _

_ The snow and cold bite his cheeks. He loses track of time. _

_ Then, as he’s pushing himself to his feet and thinking of finding his dad inside, Patrick looks over. _

_ “Oh, hi!” Patrick sits up and waves, his snowy gloves sprinkling ice and cold over Patrick’s reddened face. “Merry Christmas! I didn’t get to tell you that yesterday.” _

_ Patrick’s practically bouncing in place, his smile splitting across his cheeks as he shouts towards Pete.  _

_ “Merry Christmas,” Pete says in return, not quite certain whether or not Patrick will hear him.  _

_ He’s still wondering whether or not he should go inside when Patrick says the magic words. _

_ “Do you want to come play with me?” _

_ And Pete realizes that, more than the warmth inside, he wants to do exactly what Patrick’s asked. He wants to play with him, to get to know him. _

_ He wants to walk over and find a reason to laugh with him. _

_ “Sure!” Pete says, already jogging Patrick’s way. “Hey, what toy did you get? It looks cool!” _

_ Patrick’s smile grows and he holds the rabbit out towards Pete. _

_ “Yeah,” he says. “It’s my favorite.” _

_ ~ ~ ~ _

_ It’s funny how traditions fade. It’s funny how they stay the same. _

_ Life spins out of control, blowing chaos and age into Pete’s world. Elementary and middle school pass by like days and nights. Each year is more hectic than the last. _

_ But each year also sees Pete sneaking a present signed from Santa into Patrick’s home. _

_ It’s easier once they’ve become better friends, and it gives Pete the chance to plan out better gifts. When he learns of Patrick’s delve into Star Wars, he saves for one of the lightsabers that really lights up. The next year, when Patrick’s piano teacher retires, he finds a piano book at a local music shop and wraps it up in time for Christmas. _

_ At first, it’s just because it seems right. Then it’s because it’s fun. _

_ Then, it’s because it’s for Patrick. _

_ Patrick, someone Pete learns more about with each year. Like the fact that he kept his room clean because he has a habit of sleepwalking and doesn’t want to trip over something at night, or that he used to wear his dad’s glasses because he thought they’d protect him from electric waves from the TV. He learns that his favorite color is orange because of his favor for the fruit.  _

_ He learns that he loves hearing Patrick talk, that he can sit for hours and listen to Patrick ramble about the things he cares about. The games he plays, the movies he likes, the songs he gets stuck in his head— they’re all precious to Patrick and, so, they become precious to Pete. From gift ideas to simple smiles, they fill Pete’s life with something that wasn’t there before. With each year, Patrick’s voice feels more and more like home. _

_ So, Pete does the little things he can to keep a smile warming that voice of his. If a Santa signature scrawled onto wrapping paper is one of those things, Pete’s more than happy to oblige. _

_ Time goes on. The presents remain. _

_ Seeing Patrick smiling over his Santa presents becomes, with no contest, one of Pete’s favorite Christmas traditions. _

_ ~ ~ ~ _

_ Silver Bells  _ plays softly on the radio Pete keeps on the counter of his college apartment, Christmas music a constant as soon as December hits. Patrick sways back and forth to it, humming to himself as he searches Pete’s cupboards for something to eat.

Pete leans back in his chair at the kitchen table, smirking as Patrick hip bumps the silverware drawer closed.

“You’re dancing again,” he says, laughing when Patrick looks up with those wide eyes Pete’s come to love. 

Patrick, though blushing, places a hand on his hip and does his best scowl. “You said you didn’t mind my dancing.”

“I don’t. It’s just distracting me from writing this list,” Pete says.

“Ah, yes, the Christmas gift list. Most people would have bought their family presents already.” Patrick leans against the counter, giving up the disgruntled mask in favor of a smirk of his own. “Planned out my present yet, Petey?”

Pete laughs again, setting his pen down and raising an eyebrow. 

“No, I’m planning it all out as we speak, a whole day before you’re supposed to head home,” he says. He lets Patrick’s mild shock hang in the air for a moment more before giving in. “Of course I’ve already planned it. I mailed it to your place a few weeks ago. Your mom already told me she’s got it waiting under the tree for you.”

Patrick makes an affirming noise, nodding sharply before looking down to his cereal.

“That’s good,” he says. “I did the same for your gift, too. I mean, there goes the surprise of finding a present but—”

“Hey,” Pete interrupts, willing the telltale warmth in his face to die down before continuing, “I may have some surprises left for you, you never know.”

Patrick snorts but says nothing more. All for the best, too— Pete’s mind wanders off to the Santa present he’s yet to hide.

It’s not his fault that the gift hasn’t found its way to Patrick’s tree yet. With Patrick the Gift Recipient hanging around the apartment while the dorms are closed for Winter break, Pete’s hadn’t had the chance to buy the present until just a few days ago. 

And with Patrick the Boyfriend hanging around in Pete’s apartment for a limited amount of time, well. Pete’s had far more tantalizing things to attend to for the past week or so.

Dating hadn’t been as obvious to the two of them as it seemed to have been for everyone else, each boy trying out different relationships and never considering the ways in which they were still closer to each other than their partners. Sure, Pete had realized that he preferred the way Patrick’s hair felt under his fingers than anyone else, and Patrick had admitted that he liked Pete’s sense of humor best, but that had felt like best friend things. Growing up together had made it seem as if they were meant to be close friends and nothing more. Even when he had started his crushing on Patrick, Pete had panicked at the thought of never considering more options than the one he’s had his whole life.

So, when Patrick had finally shown up on his doorstep during his sophomore year of high school to ask Pete to prom, the  _ yes  _ hadn’t been as obvious as Pete was sure it should have been. It had taken a few years of breaking up and making up but, eventually, the two had fit together like two roses in a vase— their thorns may bump into each other every so often but, overall, it’s entirely like they’re meant to be.

And, through it all, Pete’s managed to place Patrick’s present under the tree every year. Even during the years when they were in their break up stages— the years with calls that went straight to voicemail and cold shoulders in the hallways— Pete would get the present to Patrick.

All this to say, he’ll be damned before he misses this year.

But, this year, he’s not heading to the same town Patrick will be driving to. For the first time in Pete’s life, his parents aren’t hosting Christmas in their home— they’re flying to visit an older uncle who just can’t travel anymore. Pete would have no problem with the plan if it didn’t toss a wrench into the one Christmas tradition he’d really not like to forget.

As Pete thinks, some buzzing noise makes itself known in the apartment. Some restless, nonstop, rambling—

“—are you?” Patrick asks tiredly, setting his spoon down with a clank. 

Pete winces. “I’m assuming that question was asking whether or not I was listening.”

“As I’ve been asking since the beginning of the week,” Patrick says with a sigh, folding his arms across the table and resting his chin on them. “What’s wrong? You’ve been distracted and won’t tell me what’s up.”

“Well, I—” What? Have been Santa Claus since we were kids and managed to fuck this year’s gift up? Not likely to go over well. “I just haven’t been feeling that good. I think I might have caught something.”

“Oh, come on, you’re gonna have to do better than that,” Patrick says with a snort. “I’ve seen you when you’re getting sick— it’s like dealing with a cat whose tail’s been stepped on one too many times. Or are you forgetting the time your mom had to call me over when you had the flu and I was the only one you wouldn’t hiss at?”

“I don’t hiss,” Pete says dramatically, placing a hand over his heart.

“And I don’t fall for distractions and excuses. You should know that by now.”

And Pete does, god, he does. Even when they were snot-nosed kids, Patrick was always crossing his arms and calling Pete out on his shit. Fun memories now, but entirely annoying at the time.

This time is no exception.

“Sorry, but I really have just had a lot on my mind,” Pete says, looking down at his hands. “Christmas presents and stuff. And it’s been busy with you here so I haven’t been able to get as much done as I would have otherwise.”

True enough but also more or less the wrong thing to say.

Something just  _ shifts  _ in Patrick’s breath, like something in his lungs taking a step to the right. He inhales just a fraction sharper than before; his exhale lasts a millisecond longer than usual.

“Oh,” Patrick says. “Sorry.”

“Oh, shit, no, I don’t mean it like that,” Pete says, hands hitting the table in his haste to explain away the half-insult he’s just gifted Patrick. “I just mean, like, you know, anytime you have someone over it gets busy. Not that you’ve been a burden or hassle or that I don’t appreciate you being—”

God, he can actually feel himself making things worse.

“No, yeah, I get that, I guess,” Patrick says, shoving out of his seat. “I’m gonna step out for a bit, pick up some things for the drive tomorrow morning. Get out of your space for a bit.”

“ _ Trick _ ,” Pete pleads, sounding just as lost as he feels. He tries to stand but finds his body uncooperative, keeping him in place as Patrick looks down at him. “You know I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Yeah, I know.” Patrick’s smile, though soft and tired, is enough to carefully place breath back in Pete’s lungs, easing his heart and calming his pulse. “I’m not mad or hurt or— well, okay, maybe I’m a bit stung but it’s alright. You need space to think. Hopefully you’ll have it figured out by the time I’m back.”

As he passes by, Patrick leans down to kiss the crown of Pete’s head, ruffling his hair before standing straight again. 

It’s not entirely enough to ease Pete’s nerves but, at least, he doesn’t feel like such an ass anymore.

Besides, maybe Patrick’s right.

Maybe he’ll be able to figure everything out before it’s too late.

Patrick leaves the apartment with a small goodbye. 

Pete bites his lip and looks towards the couch in the adjoining room— a couch which currently hides the Santa present under it.

God, he hopes he has enough time.

~ ~ ~

Sneaking around isn’t quite as easy or guiltless for Pete as it once was, even if he’s only sneaking around in his own apartment. Each shuffling of Patrick’s suitcase has him wincing and waiting for someone to jump out and exclaim he’s been caught. Each accidental glance at one of Patrick’s things has him muttering a quick apology. He doesn’t want to be the kind of guy who goes through his boyfriend’s bags but he rationalizes it with the fact that he’s not snooping or taking anything out— he’s just trying to sneak something in.

Placing the Santa present into the bag is one thing, though. Hiding it is another thing altogether.

It takes some more rifling through Patrick’s clothes but Pete eventually gets the gift tucked under a stack of sweaters. It's not the best hiding place but it'll have to do. 

“Ho ho ho,” Pete says with no small amount of exasperation, tucking the present back down under the sleeves of the shirts. “I have no idea how Santa puts up with stress like this.”

Of course, Santa wouldn’t have to worry about hiding presents— he just places them under trees while everyone’s asleep and then goes about his merry way. Hopefully Patrick won’t question why or how Santa got into suitcase.

Assuming Patrick still believes in Santa. It’s a topic Pete’s never brought up in fear of being caught but Patrick’s never had a problem telling Pete what “Santa’s” gotten him for Christmas. If it wasn’t so endearing or critical to the tradition, Pete might be a bit concerned.

Though, it would make sense for Patrick to be one of the pure souls still believing in the magic of Santa. He still lives like he sees that sort of goodness everywhere, smiling at strangers and offering kindness in anyway he can. Pete’s hot thinking of him, his face certainly red from the mere thought of Patrick and his angelic ways, his lovely ways, his—

“I fucking knew you were hiding something, asshole!”

Fuck.

“Patrick,” Pete says, whirling around without thinking of the bag exposed beside him. “It’s really not what it looks like.”

“Yeah, we’ll see.” Patrick seems less pissed than he sounds, a familiar form of frustrated annoyance coloring his face as he storms past Pete, shouldering him out of the way in order to get to his bag. “What good explanations are there for going through my bag, anyway?”

“I—” Yeah, Pete has no answer for that one.

Patrick tugs the bag open, feeling around for anything out of place. Waiting for him to find the present is more inevitable and hopeless than it is anything else.

Still, Pete flinches when Patrick pulls out a small wrapped gift and mutters, “Santa?”

_ Oh my god, he really doesn’t know about Santa _

Suddenly, Pete’s a ten year old kid again, waiting at his bedroom door and catching words that shouldn’t have anything to do with him. He’s listening into private conversations and learning things he shouldn’t. He’s realizing how important Santa is and how much he’s willing to do for some boy he barely knows.

Now that he knows that same boy, he’s also learning there’s  _ so much more  _ he’s willing to do, too.

“Y-yeah, Santa,” Pete says, ignoring the shaking in his own voice. “I should have told you earlier but I’m, uh, like an elf for him? But not really an elf! More like that movie where the guy thinks he’s an elf but he isn’t. So I’m just delivering your present early because you’ve been so good and Santa—”

This is a nightmare and the only thing that wakes Pete up is the familiar sound of Patrick’s laughter. The full-bodied and raucous laughter. Hands at his sides and face scrunched up kind of laughter.

“Oh my  _ god _ , Pete,” he says between giggles, looking close to tearing up. “I know about Santa, you don’t have to— oh my  _ god _ .”

Pete pauses, still looking at the world as if through the lens of some Christmas movie protagonist trying to protect someone else’s Christmas wish.

He’s not that surprised when his response is less intelligent then whatever the Christmas protagonist would give. “You what?”

“I know about Santa.” Patrick says slowly, standing before Pete as he explains in small and easy words. “I know Santa isn’t a real thing. So you don’t need to pretend, though it is cute to watch you try to lie.”

A smile tugs at the corner of Pete’s lips, though he’s not so certain he’s understanding this clearly. 

“Sorry,” he says. “I’m just trying to get over the fact that you know Santa’s— Well. You know.”

“Yeah.” Patrick raises an eyebrow, though his smile refuses to shrink from the crazed size his laughter had rocketed it to. “It’d be kinda crazy if I didn’t know my boyfriend was the one sneaking presents into my house every year. Be kinda weird if I was letting some other guy do that, don’t you think?”

It’s truly amazing how easily Patrick short circuits Pete’s brain.

“Wait, what?” Somehow, this is more jarring than the Santa revelation. “How the fuck could you have known? Why didn’t you say something?”

“Your rabbit— I recognized it from your room. I thought that maybe it was a coincidence but then I never saw it again at your place. Wasn’t too hard to put it together,” Patrick says, ducking his head though his eyes stay on Pete. “And, I mean, it was sweet. I didn’t want to give you a reason to stop.”

The feeling that fills Pete at Patrick’s words can only be described as the kind of disbelief that lifts him off his feet with no intent of putting him back on the ground, his head spinning and his chest swelling with something that nearly brings him to tears. Patrick knew— Patrick’s always known.

It’s not as distressing as Pete had always imagined the reveal would be. 

“You’re amazing,” he says, every other word and exclamation fleeing his mind as Patrick’s eyes widen at the compliment, cheeks going pink. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you.”

Patrick, still recovering from Pete’s words, manages to put a grin on his face and a twinkle in his eyes. 

“Left a present under some poor kid’s Christmas tree?” He offers, laughing as he allows Pete to take his hands and pull him closer. “Nah, I probably still would have liked you just the same.”

How perfectly Patrick. 

“I’m still gonna leave the presents for you,” Pete says. 

“The secret being out isn’t going to ruin it for you?” Patrick asks.

“Traditions can fade,” Pete says, pressing a kiss to Patrick’s lips— the kind of kiss that promises more, a kiss that can last through the rest of the night. “But, as long as it puts a smile on your face, I have a feeling this is one that’s going to stay exactly the same.”

**Author's Note:**

> It's late but I hope everyone had a happy holiday season. I hope you've enjoyed this fic. Please leave a comment with your thoughts? In my haste to post, the fic was barely edited. I do apologize for that.
> 
> Thank you for reading xx


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